


dragon type

by floatingsumaru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Plants, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingsumaru/pseuds/floatingsumaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Strong sunlight pours down all year round, and Oikawa thrives.</p>
</blockquote><br/>Oikawa is a plant, but he's an <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2016/aug/02/pokemon-nintendo-alola-forms-exeggutor">Alola Exeggutor</a>, and I really don't know how we got here and I'm probably sorry. Hopefully Iwaizumi is having a good time.
            </blockquote>





	dragon type

Iwaizumi grunts softly as he wipes the sweat from his brow and looks up.

 

He keeps looking, and keeps looking, and keeps looking, and his neck starts to ache as he cranes back as far as he can while trying to see Oikawa’s face -- the real one, at the end of that ridiculously long neck, framed against the blue sky under the green leaves that crown him. It was a beautiful day on the island, and Oikawa had rustled so bright and restless that morning, more than the usual, and the perfect wave of his hair had glowed so green under the sun.

 

But it's a little disconcerting when the fake head on the end of Oikawa’s tail has its fake mouth wrapped around Iwaizumi’s dick; the eye spots don't move, and Iwaizumi knows the wet slopping noise as the mouth slurps around the base of his dick is actually just the young milk sloshing inside the coconut-like head. Iwaizumi thinks he likes it better when Oikawa uses his real mouth, or his real dick, and then Iwaizumi grunts again as the young leaves that frame the fake face rustle against the curve of his ass. It’s still a little sensitive.

 

At least there’s no teeth. Oikawa’s real ones are sharp little dagger points, and Iwaizumi is going to carry that row of pinprick scars along the inside of his knee for a very long time, where Oikawa had mouthed the soft skin there, the last time Oikawa had fucked him, the rough bark that covered Oikawa’s hands bruising Iwaizumi’s hips with the imprint of palm fronds.

 

“Bend down, you idiot,” Iwaizumi grumbles, and he doesn’t add _so I can kiss you_ , because he hates talking to the long smooth column of Oikawa’s neck. It’s just so smooth, and it’s so fucking long. It’s been a while since Iwaizumi was taller, but ten meters was a long way away from the ten centimeters he used to covet when they were younger.

 

The fake head shifts a bit and spills more coconut milk across Iwaizumi’s dick, and he can feel himself going soft. “I don’t think this is working for me.”

 

“That’s because you’re nasty, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, but he bends down anyway, the arc of his neck like a skin-coloured loop, and kisses the side of Iwaizumi’s mouth. Oikawa’s lips are curved into a smile, and anybody but Iwaizumi would think not to trust it. “Do you want to fuck me instead.”

 

Iwaizumi looks at Oikwa’s fake head tail bobbing in excitement, and at the other fake heads that sit at Oikawa’s shoulders, and he shrugs. “Okay, but make sure none of those fall on me. I’m not wearing the helmet again.”

 

“It’s important to wear protection, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathes as he spreads his thighs, blunt claws scrabbling in the dirt for purchase.

 

Iwaizumi just grunts as he fucks slowly into Oikawa, sweet juice running in rivulets down his bare thighs, and Iwaizumi tries not to think of how it feels a little bit like the soft meat of overripe fruit.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> JAZZ HANDS, TWO POINTS


End file.
